


out of my chrysalis

by elopement



Category: Pod Save America (RPF)
Genre: First Time, M/M, Wingfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-11
Updated: 2018-04-11
Packaged: 2019-04-21 17:43:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,688
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14290044
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elopement/pseuds/elopement
Summary: So Lovett has wings now.





	out of my chrysalis

**Author's Note:**

> Posted as [a kink meme fill](https://podsavethekink.dreamwidth.org/659.html?thread=93331#cmt93331) first! Thanks to joshlymanwalkandtalk and electr1c_compass for reading it over <3
> 
> Please be super chill and mindful of the fourth wall, and help this fandom stay on the down low.

Lovett keeps shifting irritably on the couch next to him. Tommy’s pretending to ignore it, keeping his eyes studiously on the movie, but it’s getting harder the longer it goes on. Lovett’s  _ moody _ since he got the wings, and Tommy doesn’t want to get yelled at. He also doesn’t want to break the spell that’s allowing the two of them to sit and hang out, which they haven’t done in a week, since Lovett sprouted giant wings out of his shoulder blades that nobody has yet been able to explain.

“You okay over there?” Tommy asks when he can’t take it anymore.

“Yeah, just trying to get comfortable,” Lovett says, ceasing all movement too quickly.

“It’s the wings?” Tommy asks, as casually as he can, and Lovett shoots him a defiant look. 

“I’m not exactly used to them,” he says, then sighs and looks determinedly back at the TV. “I mean, whatever.” Sometimes he complains about the wings at length, and other times he gets mad at any mention of them. Tommy’s sympathetic, it’s a lot to deal with, and it does seem cosmically unfair that it’s Lovett this happened to. Lovett wants attention when he wants it, and the rest of the time he needs a healthy amount of privacy. Tommy relates to that.

“They hurt?” Tommy asks. Lovett’s not relaxing or slouching all over the couch like he usually would be, curled up in an improbable ball. He can still lean against things with the wings, Tommy’s seen him do it before, but right now he seems to be holding them a little away from his body.

“No, I’m fine,” Lovett says. 

“...Lovett,” Tommy says, in his most coaxing voice. “Just, what’s up?”

“Don’t  _ ‘Lovett’ _ me,” Lovett says. “They—” he darts his eyes over to Tommy— “the feathers are messed up. That’s all.”

Tommy furrows his brow. “The—oh. And you can’t fix them?”

“Yeah,” Lovett says, deflating more, looking resigned to the indignity of discussing it. “It’s almost like humans weren’t designed to  _ have wings _ .” He shifts his shoulders, shrugging like he’s trying to stretch something and not getting it.

Tommy considers him. “Does it hurt?”

“No.” He scrunches his nose. “Don’t, it’s—I’m fine. It’s just uncomfortable. I don’t need to go to another doctor.” That had been a production.

“Can I help?” Tommy asks. “Maybe I could just—fix them.” He’s touched the wings before; they all had at first, to check that they were really there, disbelieving their own eyes. The wings felt... nice, strange but good: soft, warm, otherworldly. They left a subtle gold dust on their hands that didn’t fade for hours. Tommy reaches over now and runs a hand down the edge of the closer wing.

Lovett starts. “Ugh, that’s so weird.”

“Sorry,” Tommy says, raising his hand to show he’s stopping. He can see a trace of the gold dust on his hand. 

“No, it’s,” Lovett says. He hesitates. “It’s just weird having this extra part, that I can feel.” He winces, rolls his eyes.

The wing Tommy touched lifts slightly now that Tommy’s not touching it, like it’s reaching out to him. Lovett might not be doing it on purpose—he doesn’t always seem to know what the wings are up to. They’d knocked over so many half-full beers in Favs’s kitchen the other night that Lovett had refused to hang out in it anymore. Tommy takes a chance and touches the wing again, smoothing his hand down the surface with the feathers. Lovett makes a soft, surprised sound this time. The wings feel like silky hair, or like the softest fur, a rabbit’s stomach or something. Tommy trails his fingers down to the very tip of the feathers and along the edge of the wing.

Lovett’s expression is fraught when Tommy checks, like he’s thinking hard and he’s worried. “Here, go on, turn that way and tell me what to do,” Tommy says, nudging Lovett to turn away so he can see the wings, and so Lovett doesn’t have to think about it so much. Lovett looks at him for a long second before shrugging and turning.

At first Lovett is skittish, jumpy under Tommy’s hands. “You have to tell me if I’m hurting you,” Tommy says.

Lovett shakes his head, and his feathers ruffle. “They’re… ticklish, or something. It feels. It doesn’t feel bad.”

He directs Tommy to the central feathers, where the wings overlap each other, and Tommy starts combing through them gently. He can feel that Lovett’s tense under him, his regular body and his wings too. “Is that—okay?” Tommy asks.

“Yeah. Go back up a little... there.”

Tommy feels something correct itself under his hands, the plumes slotting into place. Lovett sighs in a way that sounds like he’s relaxing. Good. When Tommy lifts his hand to check, it’s covered in gold dust, glowing seductively. That first night they kept holding their hands up to the light, trying to decide if they were imagining it. It’s so clearly magical that it’s hard to deal with seeing it.

Once Tommy figures out what feels right, what he’s supposed to be doing back here, Lovett starts arching into it like a cat, flexing the wings against Tommy’s hands. “Feel good?” Tommy can’t help asking.

“Ugh, don’t gloat,” Lovett says, but he doesn’t stop leaning into it. After a long minute, he sighs. “It’s so—I mean, if I actually have them forever, it’s like, what am I going to do, you know? I can’t go out in public. I can’t record a podcast in front of a crowd. I can’t meet anyone. I can’t run a company, and also, no one’s ever going to touch me again.” He laughs mirthlessly. “I opened up Grindr last night and then I remembered, I can’t.”

_ Not no one, I’m touching you now _ , Tommy thinks. “That’s stupid,” he says lightly, “you’ll be fine. It won’t be forever. And if it is, you’ll still be fine.” Tommy wouldn’t let him not be fine. That should be obvious. Lovett’s back is to him and the wings cover a lot of him, so Tommy does the only thing he can think to do and reaches between the wings to touch Lovett’s hair, push his fingers into it, to try to comfort him. Lovett shakes his head and gives another unhappy laugh, but after a second he leans his head into Tommy’s hand. His hair is soft and Tommy wants to protect him.

Tommy strokes through the wings again. He finds a spot where a lot of the feathers are kinked and the muscle feels tight and works on it with both hands. It feels good to correct the feathers and smooth out their plumes, until they’re warm and his hands are glowing with gold dust, and he hopes it feels good for Lovett, too. And then it’s pretty obvious it does feel good for him, because Lovett  _ groans _ .

And then he freezes. 

Tommy can’t even ask if he’s okay, because it was _ so obviously  _ that kind of noise. The back of Lovett’s neck is flushing red. His shoulders and wings are up high, protective. Tommy starts touching him again, wants to show him it’s okay, wouldn’t mind hearing that noise again, if he’s being honest. But Lovett flinches away. “So, it’s been nice hanging out,” Lovett says suddenly in a falsely bright voice.

Tommy scoffs. “Oh, come on, it’s fine—”

“Of course it is not fine. Don’t—It’s far from fine. Do you not get that I’m an actual circus freak now?” He won’t turn and look at Tommy, delivering these lines to the arm of the couch.

“Lovett,” Tommy says, and grabs his arm, turns him toward him. Lovett looks so angry with himself, mouth hard and eyes panicked. “You’re fine,” Tommy tells him sternly.

Lovett shakes his head, and for a second looks like he might cry. Instead he laughs and makes a face. “Really? Do you like this? Are you into  _ touching my wings _ ? Because I don’t think—”

_ Fuck it, _ Tommy thinks, and grabs his face and kisses him. Lovett makes the same soft, surprised sound as earlier, and kisses back. Tommy wants to lick the noise out of his mouth. Lovett kisses him like he’s starved for it, hungry and with teeth. Tommy wants him closer, he wants to crawl over Lovett but he doesn’t know what the wings can take—so he pulls Lovett into his lap. Lovett comes easily, fits right around his thighs and settles in, cozy and warm. The wings curl around his shoulders like they’re trying to wrap around both of them. Tommy thumbs the corner of Lovett’s jaw, coaxing his mouth open and turning his head to the angle he wants. He slips his other hand under Lovett’s shirt to hold his waist, and then, as Lovett shifts, to wrap around his side and pull him in. His skin is so warm and he feels so good. Lovett grinds down against him and gasps into his mouth as Tommy’s fingers dig into the meat of his hip. “Fuck,” Tommy breathes against his cheek.

“So you’re—you’re into, what,  _ wings _ ?” Lovett says, laughing a little and then breaking off to groan and rock against him.

“What? No,” Tommy says, hand clenching at Lovett’s hip, because that’s such a stupid— “I mean, I guess I’m not  _ not _ into them—”

“I’m not judging, it works out for me.” Lovett’s fingers are laced behind Tommy’s neck. “I’ll just have to hope you’re not the only person in LA with this fetish, which, statistically speaking, should be—oh, god.” He breaks off when Tommy reaches over his shoulder and buries his fingers in one of the wings, shuddering in Tommy’s lap. Tommy grabs it harder than he means to, but he needs Lovett to stop talking about the next guy he’s going to hook up with.

“Here or upstairs?” Tommy asks, because clearly someone needs to take charge.

Lovett sinks a little deeper onto Tommy’s lap, his face flushing a promising red before he turns and nuzzles his nose into Tommy’s neck. “Upstairs.”

“Okay, up,” Tommy says, tapping Lovett’s calf.

Lovett rolls his eyes and climbs back off the couch. “Don’t give me commands you’d give a dog. What do you think this is?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know,” Tommy says nonsensically, scrubbing a hand through his hair, following Lovett toward the steps. He feels drunk, dazed. His lap is cold without Lovett in it.

“You know, I’m going through a traumatic event here,” Lovett says, walking agonizingly, annoyingly slowly up his stairs. “I need to be treated gently, like some kind of prince who has been injured at war. Heroically injured, in a battle.”

The corner of Tommy’s mouth twitches. “Oh my god, pick up the pace here,” Tommy says, pushing him all the way into his bedroom.

Lovett’s bed is stained with gold, like it’s been poured on. He glances at it like he’s appraising it, turns to look at Tommy, bites his lip, and cocks his head. “So, certain things about this are a little weird...”

“Yeah, well,” Tommy says, flashing a smile at him. “Take your clothes off and tell me where the lube is.” 

“What?” Lovett laughs in disbelief. “Bossy.” He opens his button and unzips his jeans. “The drawer right there.”

Tommy rummages through the nightstand drawer until he finds what he wants and tosses it onto a pillow. He gets his own shirt off, and when he looks back, Lovett’s just dropped his last piece of clothing onto the floor. He knee-walks onto the bed, dick bobbing obscenely. Tommy unbuckles his belt, undoes his pants, hooks his fingers in the waistband and slides them down. He sits on the edge of the bed to pull them off the rest of the way, willing himself not to be embarrassed under Lovett’s scrutiny. His cheeks feel like they’re on fire; he must be turning so red. He’s painfully hard. He climbs naked to the head of the bed and sits against the headboard, pulling Lovett with him.

Lovett keeps his eyes down as he clambers into his lap. Tommy bends his knees a little and lets them fall open so Lovett’s right up close to him, and noses at his cheek to get Lovett to look at him. He’s warm and tentative in Tommy’s lap, and Tommy feels feathers against his calves. He kisses the corner of Lovett’s mouth, his cheek, and slides his fingers into Lovett’s hair. Lovett’s twisting around bashfully under the attention. Tommy bites his earlobe, pulling it with his teeth, til Lovett’s laughing and squirming against him.

Tommy gets a hand around Lovett’s dick, fumbling for it blind, then pulls off of his ear so he can see what he’s doing. He makes a sound in the back of his throat at the way his hand looks around it, the fat, red head disappearing into his fist. Lovett laughs breathlessly. Tommy jacks him a few times, grip firm, so the laugh peters off into a high-pitched sound and Lovett’s shifting forward into his hand, eyes squinching shut. Tommy uses his other hand to reach around and grope his ass, and then slides the hand on his dick down to cup his balls and press further back. He slides two fingers into his ass and rubs along the cleft, over Lovett’s rim. Lovett’s thighs are shaking a little while he holds himself up, and his head’s in Tommy’s shoulder again, face hidden.

“If it weren’t for those wings I’d lay you down and fuck you,” Tommy says into his hair, surprising himself with how dirty and sure it is. His own dick jumps at the words.

Lovett’s laugh is shaky. “Fucking wings,” he mutters, trying to push back against Tommy’s fingers, rubbing against his hole. Tommy needs to pause and get some lube on his hand but Lovett feels so good right now—he presses one finger into Lovett’s hole and fucks it in and out, working it past his second knuckle. “Yeah, yeah,” Lovett breathes, sitting back to get it deeper.

“Fuck, okay, hold on,” Tommy says, pulling out carefully and grabbing the lube. He gets his hand slick and jerks Lovett a few times, then grabs the base of his own dick for a second to take the edge off. He pushes back between Lovett’s legs and rubs across his hole, slicking everything up with the excess on his hand, then pushes back in with two fingers.

“Fuck, oh, keep going, keep going,” Lovett says into Tommy’s shoulder, and Tommy has to drag him up by his hair and kiss him, other hand still working inside him. Lovett’s kissing more loosely now that Tommy’s inside him, not biting so much but letting Tommy take what he wants from his mouth. He’s got his hands behind Tommy’s neck again, hanging on, and Tommy can’t wait to be fucking up into him with his dick in this same position, feeling Lovett sink down onto him.

Tommy tilts their foreheads together, doesn’t want Lovett to hide his face again. He’s focusing too much on working Lovett open to kiss properly, but he pushes two fingers of his other hand into Lovett’s mouth, and Lovett sucks on them immediately, moaning around them. “You look so good, feel so good,” Tommy whispers.

“Come on, that’s good, it’s enough,” Lovett says, sitting up more so Tommy can pull his hand out and making a small noise when he does. Tommy isn’t going to make him ask twice. He grabs the lube and slicks himself up thoroughly, then holds Lovett’s hips while he gets into position. Lovett manhandles Tommy’s dick into position, angling it back, and then there’s the cleft of his hole dragging over the head of Tommy’s dick. Fuck, fuck. Lovett readjusts and sinks down and Tommy’s inside him, just the tip, impossibly hot and tight. 

“Oh my god, Lovett,” Tommy says. He’s hanging onto Lovett’s hips for dear life, probably leaving finger-shaped bruises on his ass and the back of his thighs.

Lovett sits up a little straighter, eyes closed and forehead creased in concentration. He’s sweating and so is Tommy. And then he sits, excruciatingly slowly, onto Tommy’s dick, taking almost all of it in a slow slide that makes Tommy clench his muscles to make sure he doesn’t come. Lovett lifts up and then sinks down again, with more force, taking Tommy as deep as he can go. Tommy can’t move yet, has to get used to how tight and good it is before it overwhelms him, and he’s glad when Lovett takes a second, too, to just hold still there and breathe out. He looks so sweet, lower lip pouted just a bit, eyes still shut tight, that Tommy has to touch his face and kiss him. Lovett kisses back sloppily, nosing at Tommy’s face until they’re kind of bunny-kissing and Lovett’s starting to move in his lap, just rocking a little.

“Just like that, baby,” Tommy says against his cheek, can’t keep the sex talk from slipping out even though if his higher brain was online, he’d probably be more unsure about how Lovett would take the pet name.

“You feel, fuck, really good,” Lovett murmurs, and laces his fingers behind Tommy’s neck. 

“Yeah?” Tommy breathes. So the pet name was a good move. “You’re taking it so deep. I can’t believe how deep I am.”

Lovett nods and rides him faster, the wings trailing over Tommy’s lower legs. He can see them ruffling over Lovett’s shoulder and reaches back to get a hand in one of them, pushing his fingers deep into the feathers.

Lovett cries out, a broken, needy sound that Tommy’s going to replay every time he jerks off until the day he dies, probably. He’s fucking himself on Tommy’s cock harder, but he can only go so fast in this position, and it’s clearly not enough.

“Here, I got you, move back,” Tommy says, and they shift away from the headboard so Tommy can lie down fully and pull Lovett over him. He wraps his arms around Lovett’s back, one cradling the back of his head and one grabbing near the base of a wing. Lovett seems to get it—he lifts his hips up enough to give Tommy room to work and keens when Tommy starts fucking him. From this angle he can use the leverage of his legs to give it to him, maneuvering his body with the hand on the wing, fucking him almost as hard as he wants to, almost as good as if he could press Lovett into the mattress.

“Fuck, fuck, don’t stop,” Lovett gasps, some indeterminate minutes later, “I’m gonna come, I’m gonna—”

His dick is trapped against Tommy’s stomach and Tommy can feel the head smearing against him. He keeps up the relentless pace, all of him taut and muscles working. He’s ruthlessly pushing away thoughts of coming himself. He  _ has _ to get Lovett to come, it’s the only thing he wants, wants to know what he’ll sound like, what faces he makes.

“Please, keep going,” Lovett says, and he sounds a little like he’s crying. His wings are ruffling and flexing against Tommy’s hand, pushing against him from all sides. “You’re gonna make me come,” he says desperately, and then, “please, please,” almost chanting it.

Tommy fucks him harder, faster, holds Lovett tight against him until finally Lovett’s crying out and spurting across his chest and Tommy’s, making a pained sound as Tommy keeps fucking him through it. Lovett’s clenching around him, so wet and hot, so pliant in Tommy’s arms. He says Tommy’s name just once, sighing it out and pushing back against his dick even though he must be so sensitive, and that’s what does it, Tommy’s coming inside him, burying himself to the hilt and fucking it into him.

Finally, they both let themselves go lax over several long minutes, and Lovett’s shifts gingerly to let Tommy slide out of him. He makes a little, pained,  _ ah _ sound at it, and Tommy murmurs a  _ sorry, _ wincing in sympathy. Lovett shifts off to the side but stays close, and Tommy turns with him so they’re facing each other. Lovett’s eyes are so big this close up, compellingly sleepy, partially closed. Tommy touches the mess on Lovett’s chest, come in his chest hair. There are so many things they didn’t even do. He thumbs over one of Lovett’s pecs, pushing it up, and then rubs at a nipple, making even more of a mess.

Lovett squirms, but he makes a pleased noise, fingers clenching on Tommy’s waist, then laughs a little. “Gross.” He sounds worn out and it makes Tommy’s chest warm.

Tommy kisses the corner of his mouth and Lovett smiles. “Here, let me get a wash cloth or something,” Tommy says, but Lovett holds him when he tries to get up.

“It’s fine,” he says, groping behind him and coming up with his own t-shirt, which he uses to mop the come off of his chest and then Tommy’s. They’re far from clean, but he shifts a little closer like it’s done, looking at Tommy even though his eyes keep drifting shut.

“You’re like—a sleepy puppy,” Tommy says, and he knows it comes out too fond, but Lovett’s not in a mood to protest, only making a small  _ mm _ sound. Lovett falls asleep first, alarmingly fast. Is he like this with everyone, or just so trusting because it’s Tommy?

There’s gold dust all over Tommy, shimmering impossibly in the low light: his legs, the hand that was buried in Lovett’s feathers. Pundit jumps up on the end of the bed and makes a few irritable turns before curling up with a sigh. Tommy scoots a little closer to Lovett. He doesn’t know how long this will last, and he wants to remember it: the curve of feathers over Lovett’s shoulder, his dick most of the way soft and a sheen of come on his chest, one ankle crossed over Tommy’s, his mouth fallen open. Tommy falls asleep, too.

**Author's Note:**

> i am also [on tumblr](http://throuples.tumblr.com)


End file.
